Small world

I had been fighting a cold for a few days, so trying to swallow my pasta while sitting down for a late dinner in the hostel kitchen in Dunedin was a bit of a struggle. This was my fourth straight pasta dinner. It's incredibly filling for the price, and it doesn't get too old, especially if you switch the sauces. However, the sauce didn't matter this night because I couldn't taste anything.

Across from me was a map of the world with New Zealand at the center. I found it difficult to look at. My mind was automatically thrown off by the states not being at the center. Sometimes I see why other travelers give me grief when they find out I'm American. Whether it's conscious or not, sometimes we do think we're the center of the universe.

Guests at the hostel were encouraged to place pins through their home towns on the map. I was mesmerized at by the total area hidden by the tiny tips of the pins. There were pins in places I didn't even know people lived, like north of Russia toward the North Pole.

"Put one in Iowa for me," I told Helen, noticing there wasn't a pin within 200 miles of the state.

"I have no idea where Iowa is," she predictably responded. I wouldn't expect someone from Sweden to find the Hawkeye state when I've met people from my own country who assume it must be by Idaho and Ohio since they sound similar.

Then, a familiar accent from the the table next to us interupted.

"Are you from Iowa?" a girl asked.

"Yeah, I am."

"Oh wow, I'm from California, but my friend here (points to friend in kitchen) went to the University of Iowa."

"So did I," I said, no longer feeling 8,000 miles away and 19 hours ahead of my home.

I chatted with her friend for a few minutes. We knew all the same bars, the same streets, a few of the same people. We really didn't have much to say other than listing things we both knew. We then parted ways, agreeing it's a small world. I didn't really mean it when I said it though. I like to think of the world as a big place.